


The Enticement of Suffering

by jonnimir



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, But Will's dick is really the least of his concerns, Discussion of woundfucking, Dubiously consensual sexual contact, E-rated violent fuckery, Episode: s03e06 Dolce, Gory dirty talk, Hurt No Comfort, Improbable orgasm, M-rated sexual content, M/M, Medically inadvisable treatment of wounds, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-consensual sadism, Pain, Possibly Asexual Hannibal, Sadism, Sadistic Hannibal, Semi-masochistic Will Graham, Theoretical semi-public humiliation, torture?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnimir/pseuds/jonnimir
Summary: After Will is shot, Hannibal takes a sadistic interest in his wound.





	The Enticement of Suffering

**Author's Note:**

> The tags are a mess but please watch them! This is 2000+ words of pain that Will Graham is not okay with (though his dick kinda disagrees). I left off the non-con warning in favor of "chose not to use warnings" because torture is usually not consensual anyway and the sexual contact is comparatively soft (and really just meant for Will's benefit), but the sexual overtones are definitely there and it's all uncomfortably mushed together.
> 
> Shoutout to [these two](https://willgrahaminpain.tumblr.com/post/176238815838) [gif sets](https://willgrahaminpain.tumblr.com/post/176673080208) for the inspiration and trashbambi for the wound-licking concept. And thanks to everyone who encouraged my perversions, hope you're happy now lmao.

Hannibal was quietly resigned to what would be necessary to free himself from Will. Despite his elation at their reunion, he was reminded how impossible this situation was when the knife appeared in Will’s hand, a promise of a stabbing if he hadn't been shot before he could act. He knew further entanglement would be ill-advised, no matter how tempting, and to some extent he was reassured by this new betrayal that his plans were justified.

But the temptation remained. When Will finally collapsed into a chair, having staggered all the way from the Uffizi Gallery with a fresh bullet wound, he was panting from exertion and pain. Hannibal had two simultaneous urges: to graciously piece him back together again, basking in his desperation for the comfort and relief that only Hannibal could provide; and to sate himself with the sight of Will’s suffering, to wallow in it.

He indulged the first urge when he offered Will a sip of cool water, but threatened the second by curling his fingers in the back of Will’s hair, guiding him firmly enough to make it clear that Hannibal could be rough and cruel if he chose. As Will was distracted by the ache of his shoulder, this was mostly for Hannibal’s own benefit. His hand lingered there even after Will finished, reluctant to break contact with the one who had so persistently haunted his mind.

But he did pull back, and forced himself to speak matter-of-factly when he said, “This is going to hurt. The bullet is still inside you.” It was better, he thought, to default to the detached manner of a doctor than to allow his emotions sway in this interaction.

He was rougher when he pulled Will’s jacket down his arms, making him grunt loudly in pain and fall forward until he was breathing raggedly against Hannibal’s shoulder. He felt almost feverish to the touch, sweating and shivering, and Hannibal allowed him to rest there a moment. His hand went automatically to the back of Will’s neck and held him close. Not out of an instinct to comfort him, but because he wanted to feel the breath and trembling of Will’s body against his own, the way he fell into Hannibal’s arms automatically and almost trustingly, despite everything Hannibal had done to him. His breathing even began to steady, truly able to find some comfort in this contact.

The intimacy of this position ached, too similar to the memory of holding Will against him as he bled out, stomach just cut open. A reminder that he had been betrayed then, and was betrayed again now. With a sigh, Hannibal eased him back. Will’s face contorted as he tried to pull himself together.

“Chiyoh has always been very protective of me,” Hannibal said, distancing himself once again with a clinical tone.

Will managed a huff of laughter through the pain, and Hannibal wondered what Chiyoh might have said to contradict that statement. He cut the shirt away and exposed Will’s bloodstained shoulder and a perfectly round hole that oozed blood until it overflowed its bounds and dripped down pale skin. He had seen many such wounds during his time as a surgeon, but this one captivated him, elevated into something more meaningful by its presence on Will’s body.

“Did she kill her tenant, or did you?”

“She did.”                                                                               

“Excellent.” He was pleased, but he couldn’t linger on it. He raised his eyes and saw Will’s own had closed, falling into a haze of pain. Hannibal set the handle of a knife in Will’s palm, who blindly tensed his fingers around it.

“You dropped your forgiveness, Will. You forgive how God forgives.”

Will wavered unsteadily forward and back, his entire face twitching, disoriented.

“Would you have done it quickly? Or would you have stopped to gloat?”

“Does God gloat?” Will’s voice was dark and his eyes searched out Hannibal’s, defiant even as they blinked in pain.

Hannibal smiled slightly, but not without some sadness. It would be painful to free himself from this man, when every moment he was reminded of how badly he had missed him. “Often.”

Rather than immediately drugging him as had intended, he watched Will, captivated by the image he presented. He was trying to endure the pain, but his breathing was uneven, his brow drawn taut in an expression that could just as easily be seen as intense pleasure as pain. His agony was so raw and vivid that it was as if electricity thrummed just beneath his skin. It made Hannibal want to draw it out so he could bear witness to its splendor.

He stroked a hand down Will’s cheek, savoring how he leaned into the contact to seek comfort in his distress. He had made his plans, but with this beautiful sight before him… “You tempt me so terribly, Will.”

He ran a finger through the blood still trickling from the bullet hole, and allowed himself a taste. It was brimming with copper and salt—too pungent on its own to truly satisfy his palate, but the intimacy of the substance carried its own intangible pleasure. Will watched, his eyes half closed and fluttering, likely too exhausted to comment.

Hannibal circled the brim of the wound with a fingertip, touch light but still enough to make Will twitch at the contact. Then he pressed over the gaping flesh itself, and Will flinched away with a grunt of pain. Hannibal grasped his shoulder firmly so he could go no further.

“You intended to stab me. Surely you didn’t expect to make such an attempt without suffering consequences.”

Will’s breathing had quickened and his blood sped from a trickle to a thick pulse—he was frightened now. Hannibal couldn’t help but smile at this, this brave man who would again and again hurl himself into the lion’s den, consigning himself to pain and terror.

He held Will firmly against the chair, his free hand moving across his shoulder, pushing slightly near the wound and watching the blood gush out, feeling Will jerk as he kneaded into the damaged muscle.

It struck him, now, how similar this was to foreplay. The teasing promise of pain, the way Will reacted ever more strongly as he neared the epicenter. His sadism was usually more brutal, whereas this was sensual. Something to explore with indulgence. After all of their flirtations through murder and acts of violence, this seemed only fitting.

His tongue ran over his lips in anticipation as his index finger neared the hole, then dipped into it, a tight but perfect fit. Will cried out as it penetrated him. He thrashed against Hannibal, but his hold was firm and his finger unrelenting.

The wound felt delightful around him, hot and slick with blood. He dragged the pad of his finger over the rim as he withdrew it, and Will made a choking noise. He was so very tense, his breathing erratic. When Hannibal looked up from the mesmerizing sight at his fingertip, he met Will’s pleading, watering eyes.

“I could never resist you, Will. What else can you expect me to do when you offer me the enticement of your suffering?”

He pressed his finger back into the wound, deeper this time, and Will’s eyes snapped shut, teeth gritting together in a low scream. He began slowly thrusting his finger in and out of the wound, pulling grunts of pain from Will, who still tried to jerk away from the sensation. When Hannibal paused to imprint the sound of a particularly provocative cry into his memory palace, Will’s pained noises gave way to a hoarse laugh. “I never imagined this would be the way you’d end up fucking me.”

“Is that what this is to you?” Amused, Hannibal wiggled his finger where it had sunk into the wound and Will cried out, loud and desperate. Hannibal's voice was low when he said, “Then you’ve been hiding your predilections from me. Naughty boy.”

Though he hadn’t meant it seriously, the answering moan was brazenly erotic. On impulse, he moved his bloodied hand to Will’s groin, and found him already partially hard. He wet his lips. Though genitals held no particular interest for him, this was an intriguing development.

“Is this pure masochistic pleasure for you, then? Do you desire pain?”

Will shook his head fervently.

“What, then?”

“It’s you,” Will said, voice broken. “You doing this to me. God, I-I can’t…”

Hannibal rubbed him through his pants, a small reward for the confession, and Will groaned.

“So you merely tolerate the pain.”

“B-barely.”

“Good.” He would have been better off claiming otherwise; Hannibal would have had less interest in hurting him if he believed he was truly enjoying the pain, and if Will was less distracted by his injury he would have known that. But the satisfaction in Hannibal’s voice seemed to clue him in, and he began to plead.

“Please, don’t—”

Hannibal ignored him. This temptation was too sweet to resist—he wanted to consume him, every part of him, while he still lived.

He lowered his mouth to the wound and licked over it, savoring the feeling of blood coating his tongue, the intensity of its flavor nearly overwhelming his senses. Will shuddered against him. When his tongue dipped into the hole, the noise Will made was more a sob than a groan. But he had stopped actively struggling, surrendering to what Hannibal gave him.

He left his hand in place as his tongue explored the wound, offering Will the relief of friction if he was willing to debase himself to seek it. It didn’t take long before he did, nudging against the hand in short, weak thrusts.

Hannibal’s mouth felt compelled to linger here. His lips dragged over the hole indulgently, and his tongue cleaned it of blood before thrusting in and causing more to flood out and pool around his lips. He pressed it as deep as he could, delving between layers of skin and flesh, tight and pulsing around him. He moaned, feeling his thirst quenched yet still starved of true satisfaction—the blood alone was just a glimpse, a tease of the flesh beneath. He wanted to tear into it with his teeth, and for a moment he thought he might. Instead, he locked his lips against the skin and sucked to draw blood straight into his mouth from Will’s broken veins. Will whimpered and squirmed, his chest expanding and collapsing in quick bursts, his erection pressed into Hannibal’s hand.

“Please…”

“Please what, Will?”

He let his mouth stray and nipped sharply into Will’s pectoral. Will’s entire body jerked.

“ _Please_.”

There was something deeply rewarding about reducing Will to moans and monosyllabic responses. Hannibal growled into his flesh and bit another spot, hard enough to bruise. He resisted the urge to bite clean through the skin, knowing at a certain point the blood loss would become unsustainable. Instead he sucked a painful bruise into it, rolling the skin tight between his teeth. He could still taste the metallic tang of blood. “Had I only known you would be so responsive…”

Will’s whimpers were loud, hoarse, and frantic, and Hannibal wanted to see how far he could push. He _needed_ to know, needed it like he was desperate for air. Needed to know which way he would break when the sensation became too much, whether he would be overwhelmed first by pain or by arousal.

“Had I known, Will, perhaps things could have gone differently last time I saw you. What would you have thought if instead of gutting you I’d cut a hole and reached inside you, wrapped my fingers around your organs?”

Will went rigid before his breath came out in a rush and he managed to say, “Un… unhygienic,” with a grim smile.

“Hmm.” He clearly wasn’t doing his job if Will was still able to speak so clearly. The hand that was holding Will against the chair instead went to play with the bullet hole to leave his mouth free—he was sure at this point Will wouldn’t try to resist.

His fingers rubbed over the odd slippery texture of raw flesh and Will began to squirm again.

“What if it wasn’t my hand? What if I used the hole in your gut to pleasure myself?”

Will’s eyes flew open and a strange shade of horror fell across his face. His hips twitched forward with a ragged gasp and Hannibal could tell he was appalled at his own reaction.

“Yes,” Hannibal murmured. “That’s it. You want me inside of you, even in such an obscene manner. You’d enjoy it—you’d like the sensation of me entering you, driving myself into your organs, forcing them to make room for me. You’d get hard for me then, too.”

Will moaned. He flinched at the finger now prodding anew into his wound, tears filling his eyes, but still rocked against him. The sight of him like this, pushed to his limits, was truly delicious.

“Such a vulgar idea, but I expect I would enjoy it as well—feeling your blood run all over me, the soft resistance of your intestine, penetrating to the heat of your core. Having you lie beneath me crying in pain, hard and trembling. Could you attain orgasm like that? I could.”

There was no response other than Will’s quiet sobs and the small thrusts of his hips that betrayed his arousal. Hannibal licked into the hole again, addicted to the taste and lewd sensation. Dug his fingers bruisingly deep into Will’s arm, felt the muscles tense and shake against him.

“It would make recovery more difficult, a far call from the surgical precision that I used in reality. But maybe you would prefer not to recover. If I spilled inside you, maybe you would prefer to die like that, with me on top of you. I would strangle you as I finished, if you begged me to.”

Will’s adam’s apple bobbed, his head thrown back. There were tear tracks down his face, and he looked like he was on the verge of utter collapse.

“Because if I didn’t kill you then,” he continued, hand now massaging Will through his pants, “they’d find you like that. The EMTs, the surgical team, they’d find semen leaking from your abdomen and know precisely how I used you. They would discover your own mess and know how much you enjoyed it. But perhaps you would enjoy the humiliation of everyone knowing what a filthy boy you are.”

Will made a high noise in the back of his throat. Hannibal squeezed his erection and leaned in close. He murmured, “I would want them to know, too. I would want them to see you marked with my blade and my seed and know you are _mine_.” He pushed his finger as deep into the wound as it would go and crooked it.

Will screamed in pain. His entire body went arched and taut like a bow, his breath catching and releasing in ragged groans. Hannibal felt him twitch under his hand and inhaled the smell of his release. Satisfied, he drew back, and Will fell limp as a rag doll, chest heaving.

“Beautiful, Will.” He picked up the syringe that was waiting on the table beside them, Will too far gone to protest as it slid into him. His body was already so lax that when the drugs took effect, the only visible change was his eyes drifting and falling shut.

In addition to easing the additional trauma Will's body would endure during the bullet removal, this would give Hannibal more time to consider his next steps. Perhaps, he thought, some adjustments could be made to his plan. If Will could be rendered so pliable under pain, it wouldn’t be difficult to find ways to proceed that would not result in his death. It would simply require some measure of imagination—and Hannibal had plenty to spare.


End file.
